Portraits of Us

It’s easy to feel voiceless in a big room
You show me steal the mic if I have to
All that brain, you took it beyond the classroom
You do it all, so you know I gotta gas you 
Seeing the future, it’s Ethereal Visions 
CEO of the business 
So touched by the lyrics 
Screaming “Hell Yeah” real live in the city 
Delivering impact bounced back, we been building 
So tell the kids it’s no limit 
We breaking down glass ceilings 
Cause all these problems systemic
But you’re expanding access 
So we got the proper assets
So these artists got the full package
And lay it all out 
See what needs to change 
Look at what’s being stripped away 
Budget cuts keep a bunch from getting paid 
You’re rallying, testimony on stage

We all say the youth is our future 
But you take the time to pour into 
We all say the youth is our future 
But you take the time to pour into 

Momma of two 
Creating life, keeping culture
World citizen and a next-door neighbor 
Rooted in Roxbury, seeing it’s ever changing 
Pushing us out, classic gentrification 
But you’re expanding access 
So the lil ones have a platform 
So these families know they have more 
Bridging the gap with love you empower
Our actions have impact, and you’re a role model
We need to protect legacies 
Care for our community 
Like how you’re cleaning up your streets 
We all working for some peace 

We all say the youth is our future 
But you take the time to pour into 
We all say the youth is our future 
But you take the time to pour into

Last night I held your pillow
While I dreamt that you were still
in my arms, oh con.

That pillow you used to rest
your head upon
now has a hole in
the shape of my son, oh con.

It’s been a year or two, baby,
since you moved out.

That’s alright with me, con,
that’s alright with me.
As long as you’re happy, con,
that’s alright with me.

Loss is a part of love,
it’s what makes things special.
While they last.
Mama’s boy,
you grew up so fast.

That’s alright with me, baby,
that’s alright with me.
As long as you’re happy, con,
that’s alright with me.

I remember I was bound by chains, in a jungle that I called home.

In a place where becoming better wasn’t an option, it was a never accomplished idea.

Summer died before the wind grew cold.

Who am I now? There, I’m a phantom from afar. Here, I’m a stranger in the sun.

I am a son of God.

My whole world was seen in a black and white view.
Now I see how there’s so many other colors, not just gray hues.
The smile on your face is engraved into my mind.
The map to my future has never been so defined.

I see now
your blackened eyes.
I see now
our sacred vows.
You sat right there,
looked right at me,
took my hand
and I took yours in mine.

Our matching nails
against the world.
You see now
why I was cold.
My body was trapped at the end of the tunnel.
You stretched the neck of my sweater and stuck
your head in there with me.
We planted seeds in our garden till stems broke free.
We ate homemade beef stew while we watched stupid TV.

I see now
that there is light.
I see now
why I will fight.
Your silhouette
in the tunnel
beckoned me,
so I ran towards the light.

(Instrumental)

(Instrumental)

(Instrumental)

She’s six, told the words that she says are wrong,
but the new ones they give her feel like they don’t belong to her.
She’s nine, right words betrayed by the wrong accent:
step aside, sit in the corner, go home—but where is home?

She’s twelve, right words, right accent now, but still the wrong shade,
and she feels their fearful eyes. And she asks herself—

“What words will make me? What words create me?
What can I choose to say to make it through the day?
What words might trap me? What words set me free?
What can I choose to say to make my own way?”

She’s twenty-six, he’s eight, feels like he’s under a microscope,
and she sees his face stuck somewhere between fear and hope,
but his profe wears the same skin, and she’s shaken off the fear
and she wears her words like a celebration, and she says—

“Keep all your old words; they are a part of you,
There’s no need for you to give them away.
Yes, keep your old words and take the new ones too,
How can you use them to make your own way?”

She’s thirty-two, he’s fourteen, crossing paths by the sea.
“Hi miss,” he says. “Is that your baby?”
Right words, because they’re his. “Can I hold him?”
And she lets his words and the ocean breeze
blow away the fears she didn’t see she still held close.
And she thinks—

“These words have made us. These words created us.
What can we choose to say to let somebody in?
These words crossed oceans. These words built futures.
And every day we can choose how to begin.”

And as she smiles, she says in their shared old words “Claro.”

made with love
and cups of sugar
sweet and tough
never bitter

she's the neighbor
who'd bake a cake for your kids and
take any drive deliverin

midnight struck
witching hour
casting spells with eggs and flour
her magic comes alive each night
as she dances around underneath the moon light

and what a way to live
to be someone who gives
their heart to what they love
and shares it with a hug

and what a time to say
im grateful for each day
i see her smiling face
the sweetness of her ways